


Angling

by lightgetsin



Category: House
Genre: Fuckbuddies, M/M, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-22
Updated: 2006-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:43:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightgetsin/pseuds/lightgetsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why are you fucking me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angling

“Why?” said Chase, easing back and licking the sweat off his upper lip.

Beneath him, House’s breath stuttered as their rhythm broke. “Because you have a pretty mouth,” he said. “Except for when you’re talking with it.”

Chase huffed out the requisite irritated breath. “I’m serious,” he said.

“No,” said House, “you’re slacking. That’s my dick, not a barstool.” He jerked in one of those awkward, right-twisting thrusts that shouldn’t work, but really, really did. Chase hissed through his teeth, taking the hint. It was good – the slide of House’s cock inside him, snapping bolts of elusive pleasure as he thrust down and rolled his hips, then a sharp charge as House cupped a hand over the head of his dick and gave it a rough little twist. Chase moaned, slamming down hard, and House gripped his thighs. His fingers dug fiercely into the flexing muscle, and his eyes were open wide, watching Chase as he went for it hard and fast and shameless.

Was it some strange transference game, Chase wondered suddenly – the need to feel two healthy legs working, in some sense, for him? Six weeks now, not that Chase was counting, and he kept coming back for more. Was it curiosity? A mid-life crisis? Revenge? Reward? For whom?

“Why are you fucking me?” Chase demanded, hating himself as the words came out, knowing he was leaving himself wide open as he pushed for some confession of perversity or interest or – he was a fucking moron – tenderness. But better that, somehow, then ask why _he_ was here, why he’d leaned into that first kiss, why he’d flushed and glared and went when House laughed and said “heel,” and then nearly come when House had leaned over him and grinned and looked him in the eye and said “roll over like a good boy.” He knew his angle here, sharp-edged as it was, but he had no idea what House was after. What he was getting. “Why are you fucking me?” he pressed. “It’s not because you want to fuck with my head -- you can do that anyway.”

“But fucking with you and fucking you are the same thing, and I’ve got to say It’s _great_ for me,” said House, and came.


End file.
